If there is such a thing as a director-proof Britten opera, then it's The Turn of the Screw. The dramatic plotting is so faultlessly economical, the musical pacing so surefooted, that really unsuccessful productions are rare – Luc Bondy's famous attempt, brought to the Edinburgh festival in 2002, has been the only spectacular failure in my experience. But that sheer resilience also sets the bar very high for every new version, which makes David McVicar's staging, first seen at the Mariinsky in St Petersburg, acquired by English National Opera two years ago and now revived for the first time, such an exceptional achievement.

In McVicar's view of this profoundly ambiguous opera, there is no doubt of the damage wrought in this dysfunctional Victorian household, which is conjured up by Tanya McCallin's designs. The ghosts of Michael Colvin's hunched Peter Quint and Cheryl Barker's vengeful Miss Jessel may or may not "exist", but for Miles and Flora (wonderful performances from Charlie Manton and Nazan Fikret) childhood innocence has certainly ended prematurely; their games have a sinister, violent edge, and Miles's self-possession is unsettlingly threatening. It's a world of chilling, accumulating details, which Rebecca Evans's superbly judged, utterly humane Governess struggles to comprehend, while Ann Murray's Mrs Grose continues to imagine that a resolution is always possible.

But the seal of greatness is conferred on the revival in the pit, where Charles Mackerras takes charge of a score he first conducted during the opera's initial run at Sadler's Wells in 1954. He conjures up a performance of astonishing immediacy, imprinting every interlude with its own luminous world, and presenting the overall musical scheme with total, unforced clarity. For once the word revelatory is entirely appropriate, and the production pretty much merits it, too.